


The King of Midgard

by orphan_account



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Loki Wins, F/M, Loki Does What He Wants, POV Original Female Character, Post-Avengers (2012)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-26
Updated: 2014-10-19
Packaged: 2018-02-10 13:08:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 5,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2026275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>" If you were to tell me what the world would be like now a year ago, I’d have thought you’d lost your mind. Maybe I have. However, the sights which are seen every day make me remember that this is real. This is still Earth. "<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prolouge

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing except the writing.  
> This is a thing I came up with after the Avengers, wondering if our king Loki had won.  
> 

I look across my street and some people would think nothing had changed. The roads, the houses, the cars, the birds and even the sky still look the same. The same as before…

But it’s not the same. If you were to tell me what the world would be like now a year ago, I’d have thought you’d lost your mind. Maybe I have. However, the sights which are seen every day make me remember that this is real. This is still Earth. Well, it’s supposed to be called Midgard, but I still call it Earth. It’s one of few things I do to try and keep the old ways alive. Most people try and forget the old days. Some people have never known anything else.

I have. I remember when New York fell, then North America, then France, Germany until there was only one country left. Britain was the last to fall. I am quite happy about that. Unfortunately, my spirits are dampened by the fact that it all happened in 24 hours.

Don’t think I’m a rebel. I don’t hate this new world because, simply, it makes sense. Everything he says has a ring of truth and so I believe that this ‘king’ maybe what Earth really needed.

There has been no war since that day and the crime rate has fallen to double figures. This is not because of some new found morality. Everybody is just too scared to commit crime. The laws are there but there is no actual formal punishment and the fear of the unknown is the worst of all.

Any crime would be treated as treason. That would not go down well.

I have only seen him once. Yes, I’ve seen his face on the television and such like, but I have only ever been in his presence once. Most people never have and probably never will be. I saw him on the day we fell.

I was only nine then. It is shocking to think that it was over eight years ago. I ran up the beach looking for my dad when the monsters from above came across the sea. I was running home to hide, as if that would somehow spare me, when I ran into someone. I looked up and there he was, Loki of Asgard.

I ran faster then but his face is embedded in my mind. Cold green eyes, long black hair and a helmet that looked to me like that of reindeer’s antlers. Well, I was still a child.

Now of course I am seen as a Lady. Sixteen is now year we come of age. I grew up a lot faster than that.

I never saw my father again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lack of Loki scenes, it's coming...promise ;)

The car crashed before I could react. If there was time to react however, it would only have been to watch the vehicle collide with the window, shattering glass and metal. I saw none of this, and was instead left with the sight of a car, upside down and crushed, and a sea of glass surrounding it.

People around me screamed. They were idiots. More devastating things could and certainly have happened in the last year. Hundreds of men and woman have died and thousands of buildings destroyed, including Big Ben which is now silent and missing its top half. Not that we need reminding of the time. The curfew is pretty obvious.

Now people are rushing around, apparently trying to get the man out of the car. They won’t succeed. The man is dead and if not, he soon will be. I hear the ships before anybody else does, I am sure. I know that sound anywhere; I remember everything from that day.

The sounds getting closer. Soon the idiots will be given something to scream about.

The Chitauri are limited in number now, but they still appear now and again; when he can’t be bothered to do something himself. They come on metal ships, mostly damaged from the attack last year, and take over the scene. People run away, forgetting about their bids to help the man.

All apart from one.

It is a man, about my age, still trying to get to the injured. The Chitraui hold him at gunpoint and he continues…for a while, anyway. They shoot him dead.

Red liquid pours out onto the pavement, and he falls face down, so that I can see the hole in the back of his head.

He was a doctor, obviously, one of those few who just can’t let their instincts go. The screaming comes again.

I walk on from there, having seen enough. When I said no one has died since then I didn’t count the attacks. The attacks are supposed to be punishments for crime so I don’t count them. Whatever the morale person may say, laws are laws. There is nothing you can do about that.

People are running now, but they still cannot be saved.

A mother carrying a baby runs from her previous position; one of the few trying to help the man.

She looks round, but then her eyes go wide.

The top of a spear is peaking out of her back, and has gone through her baby.

She turns towards the Chitraui, murmuring something inaudible to me.

Probably a plead for life, or the life of her child. The spear is removed and both bodies go limp.

This time, nobody is around to scream.

I walk on, leaving the bodies behind me. Nothing can shock me anymore.

At least that's what I thought.

I heard him before I saw him, the screams then sudden silence.

The king walks among us.

For a moment I just stare. He never leaves New York, ever. The Avengers or whatever the hell they wanted to be called had to be kept under control.

Something must be very wrong.

It is because of this and the fact that Loki King of Midgard is coming into view with a smirk on his face, that I feel fear.

For the first time in years.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annnd we're back!   
> Thank so much if you've been waiting, I will try to update as much as possible now!   
> Thanks for reading and hope you like it! :)

I have never bowed in my life. It's strange, that in this dictatorship, I haven't ever had any reason to.

So only now, when the looming shadow of a madman demands my worship, do I realise how humiliating, how demeaning, bowing feels. He had told us that humanity was made to be ruled. But if it is meant to be, then why does it feel so wrong?

The heavy sound of boots echo into my thoughts, and it is only then, that I realise I am still standing. Panic overwhelms my honor and I rush to get down on my kness, but the thudding walk stops, and a harsh yet slythering voice splits the silence.

"Stop." 

It is only one word; he doesn't even raise his voice. Still I shudder. The footsteps have stopped again, but I can't raise my head to look at him.

A cold but gentle hand grasps my chin and I flinch back on reflex.

This is my first mistake. The same hand forcefully grabs and pulls my chin upwards, forcing me to look into ice green eyes. The fear does not render me stifless, which is what I expected. Somehow, I forget who I am looking at, only because of his eyes. 

It is not the colour, though the shade is remarkable, nor the piercing stare which feels almost like it could freeze my soul. It is the look in those eyes which makes me, for the first time in my life, care about what I see.

I recognise that look.

I see it on the face of siblings who have lost their parents, on lovers who stand in the way of oncoming Chitauri. On that women's face in her finale moments.

It is the look of those who have lost so much, and know they still have so much more to loose.

It is the look I see in the refelxtions everyday. 

"Who are you?"

For some reason, the question surprises me. Mercy has never been shown, only preaching of the absolute. 

The fact that he is stopping to ask me my name...puts the terror back inside me. Despite all my instincts, my pride forces me to answer.

"J-jaclyn...T-terrace."

A small chuckle distrubes my termor.

"Mortals do have such undermining names." 

His fingers curve my face at his will, and unwilling to listen to my fear, I snarl as he does so. Unfortunately, he notices this. Which is my second mistake.

His eyes search mine, as I hope he does not realise mine are searching his.

"You have heart." 

"No I don't. I have a soul you cannot touch." 

I don't hesitate. It is just like a physical reaction, like calling out an answer to a question. I believe that it is not my words, but how I dared to say anything, is the reason why his eyes grow dark.

For the second time, I know I am going to die.

A silence overcomes everything. I see the people around me now, all bowed, all still.

I used to be one of them. I am not sure how the changed in less than 5 minutes. Perhaps I never was one of them.

The next words will decide my future; whether I live or die. 

This is what living has come down to. I have not lived in years; only survived. 

He smiles, which makes my gut drop.

"Bring her with us."

He then turns and walks away as if my interest as suddenly become less amusing, the same heavy sound of boots echoing.

The next thought in my head is new, never been considered before. That is a strange fact.

I wish he'd killed me when he had the chance.

This is not a mistake. That would imply that I have time to learn from it. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a longer Chapter here, hope you enjoy :)

I am still alive as I enter our King's ship.

I am terrified because of that.

I expect to be treated like a prisinor, as why else would he bring me here? I have dared to speak against him, am probably part of an orginsed rebel group or have a mind which is dangerously clever and have already planned some kind of resistance.

I am sure that is what he will think.

The thing is, that none of my thoughts or actions were or ever have been planned. I just go through life, grasping what means of survival have been given to me and walk along with it; like a lost explorer being given a torch.

Never before had I even really thought about my life; what it could have been. I never even considered that it could be different. 

Never complained.

But somehow, my mouth had given up secrets I was hiding from even myself. 

I walk on the crude looking ramp, crude for a king at least, and don't dare look up as I enter. I may be certain that my death is eminant, but that does not mean I want it to come any quicker.

It is because I am not distracted by my surroundings, that I notice that the alien feet which have become a common sight, leave me behind and are replaced by very human looking ones.

I had heard about his Royal Army, apparently different to the Chitauri's keen enforcement. 

When our supposered leaders fell, many revelations were made. It was surprising how quickly it took some to surrender. It was surprising how unable some were to stop it. But honestly, I don't think mankind has ever been truely equal, until the moment he won.

Then the cowards made themselves know.

Our King didn't recruit, more invited people to join him personally. To defend him like the body guards of before. To kill traitors.

These people cause more damage than the Chitauri. 

Once again, the world was at the mercy of men just following orders.

I did not complain about much, but just being near these men makes my blood boil.

I am suddenly grasped by the shoulder making me stop suddenly and unintentionally look up.

For once, I am shocked.

Or maybe amazed.

The ship is massive, though clearly only one level. Gold coloured walls and glimmering sliver consoles reflect our King's home world, which he has never spoken of, but I have read enough Norse Mythology to recognise it's style.

I am pushed forward again, forcefully enough so I drop to the floor, my hands saving me but not stopping pain from shooting through my body. 

A moment of being shaken allows me to forget were I am, before I am being pulled upwards and words are shouted at me like I am a soilder...or maybe a slave.

"Let her go." 

The voice brings me back to reality, and I don't like what is happening here.

Our King approches from what must be the bridge, though the ship is all mainly open plan, and the soldier reacts within seconds.

All four soliders move away quickly, heads bowed, and I am left alone as he comes towards me.

I have never felt so small.

A hand touches my shoulder and I close my eyes, wishing this nightmare away.

I know he is going to kill me, so why doesn't he do it? 

Just get it done before wherever my words of rebellion came from can fully understand why I have a reason not to want to die.

"It's ok." 

My eyes whip open.

Our King is not the one standing before me.

This...man is looking at me with sympathy, holding my shoulder with gentle comfort and looking almost...handsome.

This man is gone as soon as he arrives though, and the cruel smile appears back on the king's face.

"You don't have to restrain her, she can't run away now."

A fast succession of 'Yes my King's' pass around the soliders and they march away, leaving me with the King's hand still on my shoulder.

He looks down at me, and for some reason, I look back at him.

"Get her ready to be in my cabin in a quarter of an hour."

He speaks to someone behind me, then smiles the smile of the man I saw previously, before leaving in quick steps, making me even more confused than I was.

A women leads me to what must be the main wash room and I splash as much water as possible on my face.

She stays a respectful distance away. There aren't many women in the army, I know that much. I begin to wonder if she too is a prisinor before I see the look on her features. 

The same look I saw in those ice green eyes.

My eyes wonder and find a long and obviously once deep cut starting at her wrist and travelling all the way to her collar bone.

A neckless, which I can tell is supposed to be hidden, dangles from her neck; the shape of tiny feet and what is probably a name on the sliver heart.

It is always mothers. Those are the ones who either fall by the Chitauri, or fall into the loss of freedom and dignity, just trying to save their children.

I turn away from the mirror.

"Aren't you going to put me in a expensive dress?"

I try not to sound sarcastic, which is strange, as I have not been sarcastic or funny in years.

Now I know he is not going to kill me, at least for a while, I am sure the king will try and bring me into his army by means of tempation. 

"No Mame. Our King asked for you to be presented as you are." 

I follow as she leads me out the door, wondering when I stated referring to him and the king instead of our. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi :)   
> Another chapter is up and away!   
> I hope you like this one, I really really hope you like this one....;)

When I walk into his chambers, he is not wearing his helmet.

 

A ridiculous observation but one that physically makes me stop in the door way. Somehow, he looks less terrifying. He turns around, the narcissistic look has not faded and he still looks down upon me, yet I cannot help feeling that my mind is corrupt. The look he had before; look of a man. As well as the revealing of an appearance never before seen by me all adds to two possible outcomes.

 

 Either he will spare me, or he will not.

 

Some might think that the ending has not changed. It has. Before, I would have been killed or by some miracle, I would have been allowed to continue living. Continue surviving. He could spare me now. That makes an awful lot of difference.

 

 All that from a helmet.

 

I don't even blink at the deductions.

 

He motions for the Lady to bring me in, and then she turns away and closes the door behind me. I thought I saw a look of sympathy on her face, for a moment. That can't be true. Only jealousy, anger and pain exist now. I begin to wonder why I was content with this world at all, when I suddenly realise I am alone with Loki.

 

I just stare after that.

 

He paces towards me, the fear that came through me once no longer present. He stops, a respectable distance this time. I don't even realise I speak until he responds.

 

"Aren't you going to kill me?"

 

"No."

 

The answer is almost like a physical blow. The obvious question to follow is on the tip on my tongue.

 

I don't ask it.

 

I presumed he would interrogate me, or at least speak to me, but he stays silent.

 

"Are you gonna stand there all day staring at me all day or did the other reindeer laugh at you?"

 

I am sure someone else had spoken until I see the widest grin yet appear on his face. He chuckled deeply.

 

That was in an American accent. That was using a sarcastic tone I have never even thought in.

 

That was not my voice.

 

I start to panic now, only for my own sake and not because Loki is walking towards me.

 

Now he is in my personal space. For some reason, I don't like that.

 

"There you are."

 

I cannot seem to stop myself as I ask another question. My whole life has been questions. Most of which, I hadn't realised I was asking.

 

"Why did you come all this way for a car accident?"

 

"I didn't"

 

His words are smooth now, quite. I seem to have lost control of my voice. I ask everything that comes to my head....in the American accent.

 

"Why did you come then?"

 

"For you"

 

"Why me?"

 

He laughs at that. I didn't realise that he was getting closer until then.

 

I stand my ground. By some miracle, I stand my ground.

 

"Why me?" I repeat.

 

"You know why." I frown.

 

Then, some new burning sensation comes through me. Anger I have never before felt anger...well maybe once before.

 

“You killed my father.”

 

All the emotion I honestly hadn’t known I’d been holding in came out at once, before the next sentence sent my new developing personality plummeting back into my mind.

 

“I know.”

 

I just stand there. The amount of times I’d been frozen to the spot, either terrified confused or both, just added to my feeling of dread.

 

Loki, if possible, came even closer.

 

It was not till this moment that I realised why he looked more like a man. The cruel king can only look power hungry, deranged and mad even. But never, had I ever, seen anything that made him look evil.

 

He looks evil now.

 

My breathing suddenly became rapid, thoughts and feelings rushing through my head.

 

I have no idea what was happening to me until…

 

“Hello Miss Stark.”

 

Then everything comes crashing down.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anybody confused yet? :) Don't worry all will be explained in time.  
> Thanks so much anybody who read this, it means so much! :)

 

It was a test.

Everything was a test.

I expected Loki to be many things. I did not expect him to be clever. Not that clever.

I sit in a sliver prison aboard the ship of the King of Midgard. He is the King, I can know that now, and this is Midgard. I do not have any proof otherwise. Everybody else in this world would say it was Midgard, and the only place where it is otherwise is in my head.

And you cannot prove anything which is inside your head. Especially if you can’t even prove it to yourself.

I said once; I made myself believe, that I was comfortable here. That I didn’t mind this new way of life. It’s funny, how all it took was one word from him and all that came crumbling down.

I am not faithful; I never was.

I have never stayed out after curfew, I have never broken any rules, and I have never even been glanced at by a Chitauri.

I am still a traitor.                                                                                                                          

And the bad thing is I can’t prove to myself that I’m not.

I had been thinking, over the past days in which he had me locked away in here, on what could possibly have made him choose me.

I was just a girl, just a scared little girl, who wanted nothing more than to get back to her daddy.

 I am her again now.

But then I realised why he choose me. Why, out of all the other rebels and avengers and non-believers he chose me to be a traitor.

Then I realised how long he had been planning this.

My name is Jaclyn Terrace.

This is the story of how the avengers killed me.

This is the story of how I died.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right here we are!!! Last Chapter :)  
> I really hope you enjoyed it and thank you for reading and any comments that you made!

 

 

To pull off a trick, you need an illusion.

 

He had more than that. My loss and my unwillingness to just comply created a false image in my head that maybe, just maybe. I could beat him. I didn't stop to think of the consequences of not being able to bow. Though maybe it wasn't that I couldn't, rather that I shouldn't.

 

Rebellion isn't bravery; it's cowardice. If the inner feeling of something being wrong is really so strong, then surely people would not let of happen in the first place?

 

It doesn't matter, not now. Nothing matters now.

 

Not when my life is the illusion.

 

I sit stating at the metallic walls, not moving, not really thinking. Perhaps I wasn't even breathing. It would be easy, just to slip away now. The loud echoes of footsteps no longer scare me, so much so that I don't even react when they halt and I feel the presence of my King above me.

 

He is my King. He always was.

 

Moments pass, before a hand pulls my hair from my face and eyes look into mine. I was wrong before. It is not sadness I see in them; it is only anger.

 

Anger has been left to grow for too long in that skull.

 

Now it is all that remains.

 

Perhaps, somewhere inside, I wanted this to happen. I wanted this structure in my life, I wanted answers, I wanted freedom.

 

At least that is what I told myself.

 

But I know it is not true. I am far more selfish than that.

 

All I wanted was a father.

 

He caught me as I collapsed, I knew that much.

 

"You killed my father." I whisper.

 

He looks at me for a moment, before replying.

 

"I killed your father."

 

That is all the words I need. I start to realise now, how deep this goes, and how tiny I really am.

 

I notice a clock on one of the blue screens. An hour. That's all it took

 

"Explain it to me...please."

 

A thumb brushes over my cheek. I hardly notice.

 

"I remembered you."

 

I don't look into his eyes, but feel his stare.

 

"I knew this world would not let itself be taken over. Physically yes, but it is hard to kill a man's conscience."

 

I am not sure I ever had one of those.

 

"The Avengers were hope. So they needed to be kept alive, in order to remain a symbol for people to obey me. They pretend they are waiting, but they are really succumbing."

 

"But hope is not enough. Neither is fear. I need anger. The more people hate me, the more they are willing fight. This means I can show them my power, my true power. And nobody would dare go against me again.”

 

He stands.

 

“But I needed a traitor.”

 

He’s right. I know he is. I had anger, plenty of anger. I had convinced myself that my father’s death didn’t matter to me. But it did, in so many ways.

 

I just didn’t expect to have hope. I didn’t expect to even know the name Stark.

 

I didn’t realise I was so desperate for a father, that’d I’d believe Tony Stark was mine.

 

“First I needed to know that you had the hope.”

 

Loki is pacing now, but I still look at the walls.

 

“So, of course, I needed to make sure you had anger first. Killing your father was not planned, but when I saw you on the beach…I knew that you would never forgive me for that.”

 

I don’t think I even notice myself shudder.

 

“When you refused to bow, I recognised you immediately. Then it was only a matter or restoring hope to you.”

 

It might just be my state of stillness, but he seems to be talking in riddles to me.

 

I speak, somehow more confident than before.

 

“So. You killed my father and then ralised I wouldn’t be able to succumb to your rule. Then you found me again…and convinced me that I was Stark’s daughter just to see my reaction.”

 

I stand, but still do not make eye contact.

 

“You used my grief…to make sure I knew about The Avengers. That was just like solving a problem for you?”

 

It takes a while to get an answer, but when it does come, the red hot anger I am sure I’m supposed to feel doesn’t.

 

“Yes. You had hope, for a second, that your father wasn’t dead. I knew also, that you had hope for the avengers. It was a logical step to make.”

 

 

I laugh, which causes Loki to frown I can tell, as I keep laughing until I go into hysterics, crying because I am laughing so much.

 

Until I am only crying.

 

It takes me a few minutes to stop, and when I do I finally meet his ice green eyes.

 

“Are you going to kill me?”

 

The question I have been wanting the answer to all this time.

 

“Yes.”

 

With that he walks away, leaving me.

 

 

 

 

This was not about me, it never was. This is to show whoever may be reading, as I scribble this onto the walls. They will probably wash it off, of course they will, but if you are reading this, you are one of them. But you can still listen.

 

The Avengers are an ideal of hope. They cannot help you now.

 

This is to show you, whoever and wherever you are.

 

He does not care about you, or anything in this world. All he wants is power. I am not important and neither are you.

 

The King of Midgard is not sad.

 

He is angry.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right here we are!!! Last Chapter :)  
> I really hope you enjoyed it and thank you for reading and any comments that you made!

 

 

To pull off a trick, you need an illusion.

 

He had more than that. My loss and my unwillingness to just comply created a false image in my head that maybe, just maybe. I could beat him.

 

I didn't stop to think of the consequences of not being able to bow. Though maybe it wasn't that I couldn't, rather that I shouldn't.

 

Rebellion isn't bravery; it's cowardice. If the inner feeling of something being wrong is really so strong, then surely people would not let of happen in the first place?

 

It doesn't matter, not now. Nothing matters now.

 

Not when my life is the illusion.

 

I sit stating at the metallic walls, not moving, not really thinking. Perhaps I wasn't even breathing. It would be easy, just to slip away now.

 

The loud echoes of footsteps no longer scare me, so much so that I don't even react when they halt and I feel the presence of my King above me.

 

He is my King. He always was.

 

Moments pass, before a hand pulls my hair from my face and eyes look into mine.

 

I was wrong before. It is not sadness I see in them; it is only anger.

 

Anger has been left to grow for too long in that skull.

 

Sadness is all that remains.

 

Perhaps, somewhere inside, I wanted this to happen. I wanted this structure in my life, I wanted answers, I wanted freedom.

 

At least that is what I told myself.

 

But I know it is not true. I am far more selfish than that.

 

All I wanted was a father.

 

He caught me as I collapsed, I knew that much.

 

"You killed my father." I whisper.

 

He looks at me for a moment, before replying.

 

"I killed your father."

 

That is all the words I need. I start to realise now, how deep this goes, and how tiny I really am.

 

I notice a clock on one of the blue screens. An hour. That's all it took

 

"Explain it to me...please."

 

A thumb brushes over my cheek. I hardly notice.

 

"I remembered you."

 

I don't look into his eyes, but feel his stare.

 

"I knew this world would not let itself be taken over. Physically yes, but it is hard to kill a man's conscience."

 

I am not sure I ever had one of those.

 

"The Avengers were hope. So they needed to be kept alive, in order to remain a symbol for people to obey me. They pretend they are waiting, but they are really succumbing."

 

"But hope is not enough. Neither is fear. I need anger. The more people hate me, the more they are willing fight. This means I can show them my power, my true power. And nobody would dare go against me again.”

 

He stands.

 

“But I needed a traitor.”

 

He’s right. I know he is. I had anger, plenty of anger. I had convinced myself that my father’s death didn’t matter to me. But it did, in so many ways.

 

I just didn’t expect to have hope. I didn’t expect to even know the name Stark.

 

I didn’t realise I was so desperate for a father, that’d I’d believe Tony Stark was mine.

 

 

 

 

“First I needed to know that you had the hope.”

 

Loki is pacing now, but I still look at the walls.

 

“So, of course, I needed to make sure you had anger first. Killing your father was not planned, but when I saw you on the beach…I knew that you would never forgive me for that.”

 

I don’t think I even notice myself shudder.

 

“When you refused to bow, I recognised you immediately. Then it was only a matter or restoring hope to you.”

 

It might just be my state of stillness, but he seems to be talking in riddles to me.

 

I speak, somehow more confident than before.

 

“So. You killed my father and then ralised I wouldn’t be able to succumb to your rule. Then you found me again…and convinced me that I was Stark’s daughter just to see my reaction.”

 

I stand, but still do not make eye contact.

 

“You used my grief…to make sure I knew about The Avengers. That was just like solving a problem for you?”

 

It takes a while to get an answer, but when it does come, the red hot anger I am sure I’m supposed to feel doesn’t.

 

“Yes. You had hope, for a second, that your father wasn’t dead. I knew also, that you had hope for the avengers. It was a logical step to make.”

 

 

I laugh, which causes Loki to frown I can tell, as I keep laughing until I go into hysterics, crying because I am laughing so much.

 

Until I am only crying.

 

It takes me a few minutes to stop, and when I do I finally meet his ice green eyes.

 

“Are you going to kill me?”

 

The question I have been wanting the answer to all this time.

 

“Yes.”

 

With that he walks away, leaving me.

 

 

 

 

This was not about me, it never was. This is to show whoever may be reading, as I scribble this onto the walls. They will probably wash it off, of course they will, but if you are reading this, you are one of them. But you can still listen.

 

The Avengers are an ideal of hope. They cannot help you now.

 

This is to show you, whoever and wherever you are.

 

He does not care about you, or anything in this world. All he wants is power. I am not important and neither are you.

 

The King of Midgard is not sad.

 

He is angry.


End file.
